


Behind Blue Eyes

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Derek, Beta Derek Hale, Derek Feels, Derek loses the alpha, Hale Pack, M/M, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles stood leaned up against Derek’s desk. Outside, the rain pounded against the ridiculous wall of grimy windows. He regarded the sound with minor annoyance, as his major annoyance was waiting around for Derek and the pack to come back from their meeting with Deucalion."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Blue Eyes

Stiles stood leaned up against Derek's desk. Outside, the rain pounded against the ridiculous wall of grimy windows. He regarded the sound with minor annoyance, as his major annoyance was waiting around for Derek and the pack to come back from their meeting with Deucalion.

In his experience, and based on the seriously strange shit that Scott had recounted from his history lesson with Gerard, Stiles had good reason to be worried. He tapped his foot nervously, willing the stupid steel door to open with all of them on the other side.

Being the only human member of the pack, Stiles had been forced to wait behind, and Derek even went so far as to have Allison line the walls of the loft with Mountain Ash. He could have just as easily had Stiles do it, but he knew, more likely than not, that he wouldn't, and actually attempt to follow them.

"I can help." He had pleaded.

"You can, but I- We- need you to stay here." Stiles sensed something was being unsaid. Several things, actually. He squinted in muted skepticism at the werewolf, who tried hide his gaze from where it had been lingering on Stiles' face.

Stiles sensed that he wasn't going to get any more out of Derek, so he dropped the look. But the questions kept rattling around in his mind. Derek had just gotten up, and left with the rest of the pack, once Allison had finished the line around the apartment.

He just grabbed his leather jacket off of the hook, and turned around to face Stiles. "Stay here. I can't protect you if you leave."

"You aren't protecting me anyway. It's the mountain ash," Stiles said with an air of sarcasm, gesturing at the apartment and looking at Derek with ice in his eyes.

Derek's expression seemed to get sad all of a sudden inexplicably, but whatever he was going to say seemed to be stopped before his mouth formed the words. Instead he just walked to the door, and before he closed it, glanced over his shoulder.

"Just stay here. Promise?"

Stiles just stood there, crossing his arms. Derek knew that Stiles never broke his promises, but to be binding, Stiles needed to say the words.

"I promise." Some of the tension left Derek's broad shoulders as he walked out the door. Allison finished the line on the inside, gave Stiles a small smile, and stepped through, closing the door behind her.

So Stiles was left alone. So he paced the apartment. He tried out Derek's bed, bouncing on it absentmindedly as his mind worked through the potential outcomes of the meeting. None of them ended well. He had checked the fridge, looking for something to snack on to calm his nerves, but found essentially nothing he considered remotely edible. He had perused the empty, dark space through the massive hole in the one side of the loft, only to find that Allison had dutifully lined it as if it were part of the Alpha's living space.

So he settled on hanging out by the desk, the massive, rough, wooden table that was usually empty, save whatever supernatural-related literature and artifacts were particularly relevant at the moment. He flipped through some of the books, leafed through maps of Beacon Hills complete with telluric current locations, and looked at rough, werewolf-drawn sketches of three- and five-fold knots, each one labeled with a different category. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

So he leaned up against the table, in typical Derek-fashion; head hung slightly, arms splayed, looking at the materials before him as if they caused him great pain. It amused him slightly, but did nothing to quell the tightening in his stomach. He checked his phone again. Nothing.

After a long while, he settled against the side of the desk, staring at the door, willing it to open.

So when it finally did, Stiles gave a little jump. Any embarrassment he felt as Allison broke the Mountain Ash seal and the pack entered was stopped in its tracks by the sight of Derek, wet and limp, being half-carried, half-dragged back in by Scott and Isaac.

"What happened?" Stiles croaked. He moved to help. They set Derek's limp form down on the couch, Stiles conspicuously aware of the fact that nobody has said anything. Derek appeared to be breathing which was a good sign. His pulse was weak, but it was there. Small, incision-like wounds around the sides of his face had begun to heal, blood dried in small fingers down it.

Isaac spoke first. "His eyes..." It was all he managed to get out.

Stiles knew about werewolf eyes, what the colors meant, how they signified power, or purity, or past transgressions. "What happened to them?" Thoughts of Derek ending up like Deucalion, or worse, flashed in his mind.

"See for yourself." Isaac stepped back, closer to Scott. Allison lingered in the background, eyeing the pair warily. If she knew what Isaac was talking about, she gave no sign. They were all being terribly cryptic.

So Stiles turned around, to face the figure of the unconscious werewolf lying on the sofa. As if prompted, Derek seemed to stir. But he didn't open his eyes.

"Derek?"

"Stiles?" His voice sounded weak, as if clouded by sleep. "Is that you?"

"You know damn well it's me. Use that werewolf nose of yours. Or, better yet, just open your damn eyes."

"No. I can't." Stiles placed a hand on the Derek's face, gently, almost subconsciously. He barely even realized that he had done it. The werewolf started at the contact. It seemed like he was afraid.

"Open your eyes, Derek." The alpha gave a weak little shake of his head. Stiles suppressed a chuckle. Given the situation, the expression should not have been as adorable as it was. "Let me see them."

Slowly, deliberately, almost imperceptibly, Stiles saw Derek's eyelids unclench, and begin to slide open, the eyes underneath tracking his movements. As the snicked open, Stiles saw why Derek hadn't wanted to open them.

They were blue. The cold, ice-blue of pure steel, the color they were before Derek became an alpha. The color of a killer. And their gaze was boring into Stiles' face, into his eyes, sweeping back and forth between the human's amber-brown ones. Despite Derek's obvious disdain for them, Stiles couldn't help but feel a little relieved.

Because it meant that Deucalion wouldn't try to take him anymore, that he wouldn't be forced to kill any more of his pack. He smiled slightly at the alpha.

Derek smiled back. Behind Stiles, Allison gently nudged Isaac and Scott towards the door. Stiles made a mental note to thank her later. He stood up from his squatted position and sat down on the edge of the couch, and rested his elbows on his knees, turning his head to look at Derek's face once more.

The werewolf was following him with his eyes. Damn, they were piercing. He had so many questions, because he wanted to know what happened, how they escaped, what the hell Deucalion had done to shift Derek's eyes back, all of it. But for some reason the only thing his mouth asked was "why were you afraid to show them to me?"

Derek paused his train of thought, and looked away. "Because I knew you know what it meant. I was worried..." Derek sighed, as if searching for the right words, "I was worried that you might think less of me."

"Wait, don't they only show up when you are wolfed-out? Who cares? Most people will probably be dead in a few seconds anyway if they see those, then."

"I'm not shifted now..." Derek seemed sad at the admission.

"So wait, are you still an alpha?" Derek turned his head back, and Stiles caught a glimpse of something that tore through his chest. Pain. The ice-blue eyes became glassed over with tears. He had his answer, even before Derek spoke.

"I- I don't think so." Derek closed his eyes, as if the action would will them back to their normal seafoam green-with-gold-flecks, or their blood-red glow. Anything but this. All it did was force a solitary droplet of liquid out of the corner of one eye. Derek let his head fall back onto the couch with a resignation that threatened to make Stiles' chest tighten even more.

He swore quietly to himself that if he ever actually met Deucalion again, he would end the blind wolf.

Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He threw caution to the wind and surprised Derek by leaning forward and gently placing his lips over each eyelid, hoping to pour everything he wish he could say in the contact. He hoped Scott was right about it helping with pain. Derek didn't flinch once. Instead, when Stiles' face was inches from his own, he opened his eyes and looked at Stiles. Really looked, for what Stiles seemed like the first time. His heart fluttered in his chest.

A flutter became a hammer when Derek slid his hands around Stiles' head and brought their mouths together forcefully. There was no spark that crossed between them, no tingle, no ephemeral feeling at the skin contact. It was full-fledged fire. It flowed from where their lips met, where their hot breath intermingled, and coursed down Stiles' throat, into his lungs, slamming into his chest with the force of his heartbeat, flushing the skin at the base of his neck, the warmth traveling up to his face and his ears.

Stiles enjoyed the feeling, and let himself dive deeper into it as Derek's tongue slid past his own, feeling the werewolf's teeth worry at his bottom lip as they separated. Stiles' lips were swollen, his face was flushed, and as they pulled back, he opened his eyes to find Derek's staring back at him, his face more peaceful than he had ever seen it.

Stiles chuckled quietly as he sat back. "Wow. So this is what it took, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Derek's eyebrows joined the party, demonstrating his curiosity.

"You losing alpha status. Us, this happening. All of it." Stiles gestured emphatically at the both of them. Derek knew what he meant, in spite of the words flowing from his mouth.

The werewolf laid a hand on Stiles' arm, and let his gaze meet the human's once more. "It didn't take me losing my alpha status to know that I love you. I just didn't see it, really."

Stiles laughed. It was short, and he wished the floor would have opened up beneath him as soon as the sound left his mouth. But he couldn't resist, because Derek had just made a joke. Derek smiled weakly. Stiles' quick burst of laughter became a full-on laugh as he reveled at his own comedic genius.

Derek's eyebrows leveled out, and he growled slightly behind his half-smile. Lightly. There was no edge to it. Because the high, clear, almost muscial sound of Stiles laughing was seeping away all the pain that he ever felt.

Stiles let the laughter die out, bringing his emotions back under wraps. He found Derek's hand with his fingers and interlaced them. It didn't matter what color Derek's eyes were, or whether he was at the bottom of the food-chain, or the top. Stiles loved him.

And Derek loved him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you feel so inclined to check out the rest of my Sterek-related stuff, feel free to visit my tumblr at watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com
> 
> Also, I am working my way through my prompts requests, so chances are, I will get to yours sooner or later! And, stay tuned for a big project!
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Leave Kudos or Comments if you want!
> 
> -Stiles Kolpath


End file.
